


chiaroscuro

by TheDescension



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Almost a s05 Rewrite, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, AvaLance Initially (For Canon Compliance Reasons), Captain Canary Eventually, F/F, F/M, Gideon is the Time/Space Mom, Leonard Snart Lives, Post-Crisis on Infinite Earths Crossover Event (CW DC TV Universe)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDescension/pseuds/TheDescension
Summary: This new earth that they have created hides many secrets and Sara is not sure how to feel about the latest discovery. (Or, Leonard returns in the aftermath of the Crisis and nothing's the same anymore.)
Relationships: Gideon & Leonard Snart, Gideon & Sara Lance, Leonard Snart & Mick Rory, Leonard Snart & Ray Palmer, Sara Lance & Leonard Snart, Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Comments: 66
Kudos: 76





	1. ice/past

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there.
> 
> I know it's far from ideal to start yet another full-length story when you have other works incomplete but here we are. I stopped watching Legends sometime during season 3 but recently got back to watching the newer seasons. I have mixed feelings about the newer seasons - while I like the craziness and the fact that they never really take themselves too seriously, I hate how they have developed Sara and Mick's characters (I love the writer bit but other than that the writers only use him for comic relief and that doesn't sit well with me). I have nothing against Ava but I am a little meh about AvaLance - but that's just my opinion. Anyway, I realize I am talking too much.
> 
> As I mentioned, this is going to be a multi-chapter proper full-length story. I will try my best to update it as frequently as I can but I am just slowly getting back to writing after a super-long hiatus and I may have my off days when I don't find any inspiration to write.
> 
> This will start off as AvaLance but will (obviously) end as CaptainCanary. This chapter sets the entire story into motion and is shorter than what I intend the other chapters to be.
> 
> I do not own Legends of Tomorrow obviously.
> 
> With all that said, the world right now is a scary place. Please take care of yourself and your family while we navigate our way through these times.

It's a strange case, even by the Legends' standards.

"A man frozen in ice?"

"In the middle of Central City?"

"Why does this sound familiar?"

"Guys!" Sara barks, instantly cutting off the excited chatter of Ray, Nate, and Behrad. "Focus, alright? Gideon, what else you got?"

"It's cold in Beebo lalala loves you."

"Not again," Sara groans, throwing her head backward in exasperation. "I thought you fixed Gideon, B!"

"I did." Behrad looks visibly confused. "Or wait, was that... a dream?" He widens his eyes dramatically.

"Dude, focus," Nate whispers conspiratorially to Behrad, earning an eye-roll from Sara and a confounded expression from Ray.

"Alright!" Sara announces with a clap of her hands. "Shenanigans over, team. Ray and Behrad, fix Gideon. The rest of us, it's time to see what's thawing in Central City."

* * *

"Babe, are you sure you want to sit this one out?" Sara asks Ava, winging her eye-liner with the utmost patience. They are in their room on the ship as Sara adds final touches to her appearance before they embark on their mission in Central City. She eyes herself in the mirror one last time before she turns around to face the other woman.

"Yes. Positive." Ava ambles her way to Sara and wraps her arms around her partner's waist. "I will kill someone if I have to visit the twenty-first century again," she adds with a groan.

Sara chuckles at that. "Keep an eye on the boys, will you?"

"Aye aye, captain." Ava's voice dips and sends chills down Sara's back. She lowers her head immediately and brushes her lips against Sara's. "You look stunning, by the way." Her lips find the hollow of the captain's neck and Sara moans in response.

And then there is a loud banging on their door which forces them to pull back. They sigh, glare at the door with vehement displeasure and then mutter under their breaths, almost in unison, "Ugh, Rory."

* * *

"This is as simple as it gets, alright?" Sara is in the bridge with the team, huddled in the center.

"Which essentially means we have higher chances of messing it up," Nate replies promptly.

Sara shoots him a death stare and he raises his hands in defeat.

"So, as I was saying, this is as simple as it gets. We infiltrate the building where they have this ice guy. We see if he is important to history. If he is, we bring him along with us otherwise we leave. _Quietly._ " Sara looks at Mick as she says the last part, giving him a meaningful stare.

"Since John and Charlie are off doing their own thing, and Ray and Behrad are busy fixing Gideon, I will QB from the ship," Ava chips in.

"Which leaves me, Pretty and the Boss to go look for some ice zombie," Mick grumbles and chugs the rest of his beer. "Perfect."

* * *

It is everything but perfect though and Sara realizes it when she enters the room that houses the man they are in pursuit of.

She curses herself and her stupidity: how could she not join the very obvious dots that had been blatantly displayed in front of her?

"Babe?" Ava's voice rings in her comm. "Who is it? Any idea?"

Sara can't find her voice. There is a lump forming in her throat and she has no _fucking_ idea what she is supposed to do.

"Sara?" It's Ava again and Sara switches off her channel without any hesitation.

Sara manages to steady herself, takes a deep breath and tries to calm her thrashing heart. "Mick?" she speaks slowly, afraid she will forget the words she is looking for. "It's Len."

"That's not possible," the older man's voice booms through the comm. "He is dead."

Sara feels her head throb as she thinks of the new earth that they have created. Anything is possible here. "It's him, Mick," she repeats, in a daze, mostly still trying to convince herself.

"Sara, it could be Leo Snart, right?" Nate speaks for the first time.

It could be but it isn't because Sara knows where Leo Snart is: home with The Ray. And also because the first thing that caught Sara's eye was the glint of metal on the unconscious man's fingers; the same stupid pinky ring that she has on her fingers. "It's not," she answers.

"But he is dead!" Mick is adamant.

"Not on this earth, Mick," Nate says quietly and Sara is glad she doesn't have to do the explaining.

There is no response from Mick and Sara doesn't know what to say either. She just stares at the man – _Leonard_ – bound in metal chains in front of her.

"Sara." It's Nate again. "We don't have a lot of time. Whatever we do, we have to do it fast."

That snaps her back to reality. This is the easiest decision she has ever made. "We are taking him back with us."

* * *

They put him in the med bay because he is still unconscious. Gideon runs a scan immediately and confirms what Sara has always known: it's him.

"What are we going to do?" It's Ray and it's another team meeting.

Nobody answers him; everyone contemplates how best to answer that question.

Sara breaks the silence. "Nothing for now. We wait for him to wake up."

Ava doesn't look too convinced. "Look," she starts hesitantly. "I know he was part of your team but we don't know what memories this version of him has. Are you sure it's safe not to have him in captivity?"

It's not completely unreasonable but this is Leonard, not some random figure from history she can tie up in chains and toss into the brig. She is about to phrase her thoughts when Mick thumps the central console with his hands.

All eyes turn to the man clad in black. "It is safe." He glares at Ava and then proceeds to scathe every other member with a similar glower. "We are not going to stand here and discuss Snart like he is one of the bastards freed from hell."

"Mick–" Ray ventures.

But the man in question is already out of earshot, storming out of the bridge without so much as a glance backward.

* * *

Most of the team disperses quietly after that altercation leaving Sara and Ava in the bridge.

Sara knows what's coming even before Ava opens her mouth. She knows it from the curt replies she has been receiving ever since she came back to the ship with Leonard; knows it from the way the other woman is looking at her right now.

She does deserve it, Sara ruminates. You are not supposed to turn off the comm when your girlfriend is on the other end, worried about your whereabouts, especially after you have found your ex... _something._

"Sara–"

"I am sorry, Ava." Sara sees no point in prolonging this. She knows she is wrong and she knows what to do when she is wrong.

Ava's eyes soften and Sara feels her heart clenching, guilt crippling her. "I know this is difficult for you." Ava's words are sincere and only bury Sara further under feelings of self-loathing and culpability. "And I am here for you, babe. Just... please don't do what you did today again." It's almost a plea and Sara's heart breaks.

"I really am sorry," she repeats, not knowing what else she can say. Words are treacherous and useless, she thinks.

Ava gives her half a smile, kisses the top of her head lightly and then leaves her alone.

* * *

There is no point trying to keep herself confined in the bridge or the captain's chambers when her heart lies somewhere else altogether, and so she finally relents and allows herself to enter the med bay.

Mick is already there and they regard each other with a nod.

"How long have you been here?" Sara questions him as she pulls herself an empty stool to sit by Leonard's side.

"Not long." He clearly isn't in the mood to talk.

Sara nods, doesn't prod him further.

Silence befalls them, gives enough opportunity to thoughts she doesn't want to confront to demand her attention. If Leonard remembers it all – the Legends, the rooftop, the bar fight, Russia, the parka around her shoulders in a freezing room, the card games, the me-and-you, the Oculus, the kiss – it will change everything. And she is no stranger to change; her life has ensured that. And yet this terrifies her, fills her with dread and makes her almost hope that he doesn't remember any of it.

_Almost but not quite._

She wants him alive, she decides. But not as _her_ Leonard – the one who knows her bloodlust, the one who knows her card tricks, the one who looks at her with hooded eyes that sets her skin on fire. She wants him alive, yes. But as someone who does not know her at all and remembers nothing of their shared history. Because she knows, knows it with all her heart, that if _her_ Leonard found his way back to her, she would wreck everything in her path to give herself the story with him that the Time Masters made impossible. And Ava... Ava does not deserve that. No one deserves that and—

"Do you think he remembers?" Mick breaks her train of thought.

 _I hope not_ , she wants to say. It's selfish, she begins to realize. Mick deserves to have a Leonard who remembers it all back in his life and so she says instead, "I hope he does."


	2. awake/heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making an update in less than a week and that makes me so damn happy.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this and especially the ones who have left kudos and have commented. Your support and feedback make my day.
> 
> Enjoy chapter two!

* * *

Leonard wakes up two days later; screaming and covered in a cold sweat.

By the time Sara reaches the med bay, having been instantly notified by Gideon, Mick has Leonard pinned against the wall.

"What in the world–"

"Get out of here!" Mick barely says before Leonard elbows the other man and manages to wriggle out of the stranglehold.

Sara doesn't pay any heed to Mick's words, obviously not. She charges forward and with a nifty kick against Leonard's calf, she succeeds in bringing him to the ground.

And that's when she gets a proper look at him: his eyes are bloodshot, his face is blank and his movements – as he struggles to free himself from her clasp – don't quite feel... completely wakeful.

_Oh, so this is what it is._

"Gideon, seal the med bay!" Sara calls out immediately when the realization hits her.

She isn't sure how much longer she can hold him down when Mick jabs a syringe into his arm. She feels his movements ceasing; his arms and legs no longer wrestling against hers. It's only temporary, she knows, but it doesn't help the ache in her heart when his body falls motionless.

She quickly regains her composure, finds her footing and turns towards Mick. "What the _fuck_ happened?"

The burly man looks guilty, an emotion Sara rarely associates with him. "Your girlfriend was right."

She can see that and she hates it. She glares at the unconscious Leonard. _Son of a bitch_ , she wants to yell.

"He woke up screaming some mumbo jumbo." Mick forces her to tear away her gaze. "And then he attacked me and then you saw the rest."

Sara sighs, suddenly overcome with the feeling to punch a wall or throw a knife into some _stupid_ thing.

"What do we do now? Chain him up?" There's still some contempt in Mick's voice.

Sara hates to be the bad guy, the one who has to take all these decisions that make her heart and head war with each other. "What else can we do?"

* * *

Sara knows Ava isn't unkind or insensitive, not anymore, especially when it comes to her. And she also knows that is probably the only reason why her girlfriend refrains from saying something caustic or pointed when she learns of what had happened.

"Are you going to the med bay again?" Ava tries to keep the annoyance out of her voice but fails. It is almost midnight after all, by the ship's standards that is.

Sara stops at their door and turns around slowly. She thinks of what this may look like, to someone like Ava who wasn't there to see Leonard give up his life for all of time and humanity. She thinks of how she can explain this but realizes she can't, and eventually settles for, "Someone has to be there."

"Yeah, I know but looking after Snart isn't–" Ava cuts herself off, sighing and cursing under her breath.

Sara bites back the words that'll only create a deeper rift and instead raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms across her chest.

"Look," Ava starts, clearly observant of the change in her demeanor, and sighs audibly. "All I'm saying is you need to sleep too, right? You have been sleeping for two hours _,_ _at most,_ ever since he has been back on the ship and... I just want you to look after yourself."

Sara mellows immediately: drops her arms from her chest and offers a small smile. "It's sweet that you care, babe. But... I brought him back to the ship and I have to make sure that things remain okay around here."

Ava doesn't look like she is convinced but doesn't say anything either, simply nods and lets Sara leave her alone in their room.

* * *

Sara is exhausted by the time she makes her way into the med bay. It's been two physically-tiring and emotionally-draining days and she feels like she has been dragged to hell and back.

"My shift," she announces as the door closes behind her.

Mick looks up from the typewriter he has set up in the med bay and nods at her.

They have fallen into a routine: Mick does days and spends his time writing his next book, and Sara does nights and spends her time thinking of what could have been.

"See you tomorrow, boss." And with that, it's Sara and her thoughts again.

She drops to the floor and finds herself watching Leonard. She eyes the chains bound around his wrist and wishes she could do something – _anything –_ to have it some other way. But he had woken up out of control and violent, and Gideon hadn't been able to diagnose the cause for his behavior. Even in death and whatever in-between this is, Leonard Snart still has her cornered.

"Gideon?" Sara finds herself doing this a lot as well on her nights here.

"Yes, captain?"

"Is he... dreaming?"

"No, captain. Mr. Snart's brain appears to be in a state that is devoid of dreams." It's the same answer every night and Sara wonders why she even bothers asking.

"Thanks, Gideon."

"Captain." Sara swears she hears reticence in Gideon's words. "If I may tell you something else..."

"Uh, sure."

"Miss Sharpe hasn't been sleeping too well the last couple of days."

Sara sighs, guilt racking her. She realizes it has become an emotion synonymous with Ava: guilt. "I don't know what to do, Gideon," she admits.

Gideon remains silent and Sara wonders if she even wants to do this: talk to an artificial consciousness about her dilemmas and quandaries. But there's nothing else to do right now, so why not?

"I really care about Ava," Sara finds herself saying aloud. "And I know she cares about me in the same way. In fact, sometimes I fear she cares about me more than I care about her." She pauses, collects her thoughts. "I don't want to hurt Ava but I'm afraid I will."

"And why is that, captain?" Gideon asks, without missing a beat.

Sara laughs drily. She knows Gideon well enough to recognize her hidden intent behind that question; she wants Sara to say the words out loud that she has been hiding from. "I think you know, Gideon."

"Indeed, captain. But as you said, you will end up hurting Miss Sharpe if you don't do something about it quickly."

* * *

Leonard wakes up – properly wakes up – another three days later.

Sara is cautious this time around as she treads her way to the med bay. When she reaches, Mick is nowhere to be found and Leonard—

"I'd say kinky," he drawls, rattles the chains binding him and rakes his eyes all over her, all at once. "But... how in the world am I still alive?"

_So he remembers._

Sara is aware of her throat constricting, her own breath choking her, slowly yet steadily. She has to hold onto the wall for support, afraid her knees will give in and she will collapse in a mess. This is all too much and notwithstanding all the ways she has tried to prepare herself for this moment, this _exact_ moment, where he wakes up remembering everything and looks at her with those godforsaken piercing eyes, she is still a flailing disaster.

He is perceptive, has always been so, much to her chagrin. And this time is no exception. "Sara?" his drawl is gone and his eyes are concerned.

It was so much easier fighting against him and knocking him out with a needle, she thinks. "How much do you remember?" she finally manages, as she carefully walks up to him.

He studies her for a moment. "Are we going to have this conversation while I'm in chains?" The drawl is back and his eyes are irreverent again.

"Leonard, _stop_." It comes out fast and unexpected, and she ends up surprising both of them.

He looks taken aback, shaken almost, but he complies. "Do you want me to start from the rooftop?"

"Everything." She keeps her replies short, doesn't exactly trust herself with too many words as she breaks him free from the chains.

"One, Rip's an idiot. Two, the Time Masters are assholes. Three, the Oculus. Four..." He trails off, looks right into her eyes. _Me and you_ , she hears the unsaid words. "Five, boom. Six, I should have died but here I am. Sounds about right?"

So it's really him; the real him with all the memories. Sara wonders why her heart feels like it's sinking then.

"It's been four years." The sooner she gets this off her chest, the better it will be.

He physically recoils.

"You've been gone for four years," she repeats, an unwanted tremble in her voice.

"How... is that even possible?"

And so she tells him about the earth that now exists, full of mysteries and secrets, deceiving and convoluted.

* * *

Leonard is no fool; the one thing that he has always prided about himself is his intellect and common sense. Those things have never let him down and right now they are screaming at him that nothing is the same anymore.

He wants to disbelieve what his head is telling him but he knows from experience that not listening to his head ends in trouble.

Sara hasn't really said anything out loud but four years is a long time and he can see from her body language and stiffness around him that there is someone else. A man returned from death ought to have other concerns, he is certain, but Sara Lance has that kind of an effect on people.

He dreads asking the next question because again, four years is a long time, especially in this business of being heroes. "How many of us are left standing?"

He tries to make it sound casual and he does succeed, but the rapid palpitations in his heart remain as he awaits an answer. "Stein's gone. So is Rip."

He hates to admit it but it does affect him. He shouldn't have this second chance at life when the others were robbed of the opportunity. "I'm sorry." His voice is soft, devoid of his perfunctory drawl.

Sara looks at him and acknowledges the sentiment. She clears her throat and then says, "Kendra left. Jax left. Mick started drinking too much after you... died." Her voice drops to barely a whisper as she says the last word, almost like she doesn't want to say it at all.

"I'm so sorry."

* * *

Mick tells him, "Glad you're not dead and the Weasel isn't eye-fucking your gang-banger."

Leonard looks thoroughly confused but lets it pass.

Ray wraps his arms around him and envelops him in an embrace. Suffice to say, Leonard barely returns it.

* * *

The ship feels happier but Sara's heart just feels heavier.

She is restless in bed beside Ava, twisting and turning continuously till the other woman intervenes with a firm hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to talk?"

She does but she can't. Not with Ava, not right now, it's simply not a possibility. She is reminded of Gideon's words but chooses to ignore them. So she plasters a smile on her face and says, "It's nothing. I'm just tired."

Ava knows Sara well enough to recognize a lie – or a half-truth, as this appears to be. But she also knows there is a time and place for everything. And this is hardly the time. "Okay," she acquiesces eventually and scoots closer to Sara.

Sara doesn't mind the proximity; maybe this can clear her mind of all the unbidden – and frankly _unnecessary –_ memories. And so she throws herself into it, perhaps a little more needily than she intends. She wonders if Ava can feel her desperation in the kisses she peppers her with, in her fingers as they course all over her body. Even if Ava notices it, she doesn't complain. And as long as she doesn't complain, it's good enough for Sara.

It has to be.


	3. nightmares/distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I anticipated but it's finally here, phew. Being away from writing for almost three years and then getting back to it brings along this gnawing feeling that the writer's block is going to hit again and I'm glad it did not and that I could get this done. I hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> Also, initially I had no plans of including elements from the canon storyline here but writing this chapter made me want to do something that derives elements from s05 of Legends. I'd be more than happy to leave some context in my author's notes in case some of you are no longer watching the later seasons. This chapter mentions Astra, who is presumably the main antagonist from s05. And I'm kind of playing fast and loose with the s05 timeline here; the focus remains on Sara and Leonard.
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who is reading this and leaving behind kudos and comments. There is nothing better than it.
> 
> Alright, enough jabber from me. Please enjoy!

* * *

For his entire life, Leonard has flirted with death. He has walked right up to it, stared it in the eye, been close – _threateningly_ _close_ – and has still somehow managed to escape time and time again. It was almost like the world didn't want him to die; only wanted him to bruise and hurt and forget and survive. And four and a half decades later – too many narrow escapes burned as a constant reminder on his body – he was convinced he wasn't going to die anytime soon.

But then he did and... he finally _completely_ understood what Sara had said in that freezing engine room—

" _I guess lonely? Like everybody I loved was a million miles away."_

—and the realization knocked all the damn air out of his lungs because love... his love was not for _everybody._ His love was sparing, his love was selective, his love was for Lisa and Mick, not for anybody else. _Only_ Lisa and Mick, that was it – that was his family and outside of that, there was no love left to be given, no love was _allowed_ to be given.

And yet, surrounded by the time masters in that asphyxiating chamber, his hand firm and unwavering on the fail-safe, the thought of a blonde assassin – and countless weapons tucked into her outfit – who would always keep up with him, never afraid of a challenge, had crossed his mind. It was fleeting but it was there: demanding to be acknowledged and paid attention to. No different from the kiss mere minutes ago, the kiss he was certain he would never be able to steal and yet had been gifted with, in what was supposed to be his final moments.

" _There are no strings on me,"_ he remembers saying and then feeling utterly and completely alone in the world until the explosion brought an end to it all.

* * *

Sara avoids Leonard diligently and meticulously for the next few days. He notices it – obviously, he does – but says nothing. He isn't so far gone that he is going to implore someone for attention; that's just pathetic and needy and he isn't going to succumb to that level of weakness and desperation.

_He won't let himself._

But the problem lies in this: it's been four years and yet all it does feel like is four days. The memories are so fresh that he has trouble believing the truth; a noise, him pulling Sara into the tiny compartment he had discovered, his cold gun trained on her, the ringing of the phone as it cut through the suffocating tension, the hope for a future even while contained within these metal walls drifting through the uncertainty of time, and the soft yet honest admission of that. _"Me and you,"_ he scoffs at that memory now.

He isn't petty, not really, so he doesn't exactly begrudge Sara for her choices. And honestly, who is he kidding? They were barely anything; all they did was banter and play cards.

_And anchor each other and keep each others' demons at bay._

He derides that thought straight away. He is a man returned from death and definitely doesn't have the time to think about a woman. Especially, a woman with a girlfriend.

"I know how tough this is for you." Leonard jumps a little at the voice. For one, he was under the impression that he was the only one awake on the ship at this hour and two – _and more importantly_ – this is the cargo bay, _his_ cargo bay, his space and he has never known anyone to come here except Sara and Mick—

_Things really have changed._

"Why are you up past your bedtime, Raymond?" Leonard asks evenly, disregarding the other man's initial statement. He shouldn't ask the next question, he really shouldn't but he can't help but let the words out, irrational biliousness burning his insides, "And... what are you doing _here_?"

Ray startles, draws his head back and starts to ramble with widened eyes and a scurried movement of his hands, "I was just... I didn't mean to offend– Sorry, I'll just leave."

Leonard resists the urge to roll his eyes at the words; some things are still the same. "What was it that you were saying?" he manages to say before Ray can turn on his heels.

Ray's eyes widen even further and Leonard offers with a tilt of his head, "About you knowing how _tough_ this is for me?" His eyes glint, almost in challenge and defiance, as he waits for the other man's response.

Now, Ray just looks like he wishes he hadn't said those words in the first place. He hesitates but finally relents under Leonard's stony gaze. "Things with Sara, I meant."

That gets Leonard to straighten his slouched form, his curiosity piqued. "How do you mean?" There's some provocation in his tone, spurred by disbelief: does Raymond – of all the people in the world – actually understand his situation?

Ray doesn't look as hesitant as before, suddenly sure of what he is saying gauging by the otherwise stoic man's reaction. "I don't know if you know this but Felicity and I were together for some time."

Leonard knows; he makes it a point to know everything about everyone but he barely acknowledges the comment because all he wants to find out is where this conversation is heading.

"Well," Ray continues. "She went back to Oliver and... you know the rest." He pauses, shakes his head. "God, I still can't believe we lost him."

Leonard frowns because this– _this_ he doesn't know _._ And suddenly, it's not important that his teammate views him as some kind of love-sick puppy who is pining after a woman who has clearly moved on. "Oliver's gone?" He has to ask because he isn't sure he is understanding this right. Sara would have told him if it was true but she didn't and he is utterly lost.

Ray looks surprised; beyond surprised but he still finds his voice. "In the Crisis, yes... Sara didn't tell you?"

"Clearly not, Raymond," Leonard struggles to keep his voice level. Had things really changed that much that Sara couldn't confide in him about losing someone?

_But four years is a long time—_

"I don't mean to poke my nose where it doesn't belong," Ray picks up where he left off, oblivious to Leonard's train of thoughts. "But it gets better. Seeing them with someone else, you get used to it and... it _will_ get better."

Leonard thinks of things to say – snarky, sarcastic, caustic – but nothing comes to mind. To be completely honest, his mind is a little... frazzled. Before Sara became something more to him, before the me-and-you and before the kiss, she was a friend; a confidante. And while it hurts in inexplicable ways to see her with someone else, it completely _destroys_ him to know that he has lost that part of her as well.

_Four fucking years._

"Raymond–" He might as well ask about this too; it can't really get worse than what it is right now, "Do you come here often? The cargo bay?"

"Well, yeah. Sometimes, sure," Ray shrugs. "But... why?"

_Because, four fucking years._

"No reason." Leonard quickly gets to his feet. He needs a change in environment... or a drink; either will work. "Good night, Raymond," he calls out as he pads away.

* * *

It's been a tough few weeks for Sara now, as compared to the tough few days she had anticipated when the Crisis had started. She had returned to a ship full of strangers, shoving cameras into her face and then they had found Leonard. And now, they know about Astra's master plan. It's all too much and it's all happening too fast.

It's not like she had enjoyed peace of mind or anything resembling it since Leonard had returned; she had to plan and plot and _devise_ ways in which she could avoid him, for crying out loud. She didn't really have much of a choice because she really wanted to keep this relationship of hers from crashing and burning. And she _really_ didn't want to hurt Ava; she was determined to be better than that. And for that, it was important to keep herself away from Leonard.

_Out of sight, out of mind. Or whatever._

But now, this whole Astra thing is here and she feels like her mind will explode. The bridge feels claustrophobic and the captain's parlor doesn't feel much better. She needs a change in environment... or a drink; either will work. "Gideon?" she calls out.

"Yes, captain?"

"We still have a spare chamber on the ship, right?" She feels an inkling of guilt stirring within her as she poses the question to the artificial consciousness. _She just needs the down-time and space_ , she tries to convince herself.

"Yes, we do. But may I ask, why?"

"I just... I want to be alone," Sara confesses, guilt still lurching within her. "Just for some time though," she quickly says, mostly to keep herself from being eaten alive by the iniquitous feeling.

Gideon just sounds all-knowing when she says, "The last room down the hall, captain. Mr. Snart has been given the other spare chamber beside it."

_Of course. So much for all the planning and plotting._

"Thanks, Gideon," Sara says quietly; she'll take what she's getting. She sighs and slowly gets up on her feet, dragging herself to what she hopes will be some time of solace and peace. "Also, could you wake me up in an hour or so, just in case I fall asleep?" It's only for good measure; she definitely doesn't want Ava to wake up in an empty bed and then create a furor about it because Ava tends to get like... _that_ sometimes.

"I will, captain."

* * *

Solace and peace is what she was hoping for but instead, she wakes up to a blood-curdling scream that pierces through the walls of her chamber. Sara had only begun to doze off, the warm blanket of sleep slowly wrapping its arms around her and then it had come: hoarse and chilling, almost feral and entirely reminiscent of her bloodlust-riddled screams.

"Gideon?" Sara questions, her heart thumping in her chest, as the scream continues. She sits up straight and swings her legs off the narrow bed, her body almost moving on automatic.

"It's Mr. Snart, captain." The reply is prompt and almost on cue, the guttural howling stops. There's a hollow curse from Sara; she needs to get there—

_Coming back from the dead never ends well._

Sara fumbles with her shoes; her palms sweating and mind distracted. "Is he awake?" her voice all but breaks.

Gideon misses a beat and then says, "Mr. Snart seems to be still... dreaming."

Sara picks up on the hesitance and wariness – the door slides open as she nears it with hasty steps – and she mumbles, almost to herself, weary and jaded, "What does _that_ mean?"

_Resurrection is a bad idea; why don't people get that?_

It takes her a fraction of a second to reach Leonard's door. There is nothing but silence now and she feels strangely... _criminal_ for even standing outside his room while he sleeps. The rush of emotions that had dragged her here recedes and she suddenly isn't sure if this is a good idea. Snart isn't exactly a people's person and she doesn't know whether her barging into his room will help things at all. Besides, things between them haven't really been peachy – she has been avoiding him for fuck's sake – and while this is something she could have done without thinking twice four years ago, it's very different now.

_Crook. Assassin. Me. You. All gone._

And then, the door to his room slides open without so much as a warning and she just freezes, her legs forgetting how to move. And Leonard– well, he freezes too, caught like a deer in the headlights.

He looks pretty bedraggled; worn out and exhausted but he finds his voice. "Keeping tabs on your crew, _c_ _aptain_?"

There's some brittleness in his words – especially the last one – and his eyes bore a hole through her. She wavers for a moment but recovers quickly and tells him, cautious and guarded, no intention to threaten him or his privacy, "I... heard you."

His expression loses its edge immediately and he mellows – in a way she imagines he does only around her, _even now_ – just a little. "Fantastic dreams, what can I say?" There's half a smile on his face; derisive and jeering.

Sara's heart clenches and she wants to offer _more_ but just doesn't know how to; at least not without completely screwing everything up with Ava. And she is _not_ going to do that to Ava. She is better than that; she has to be.

"Well, Captain Lance–" Leonard eventually drawls when he gets nothing but silence from her. Sara hates what he calls her; contempt and disdain all over the words. "–if you don't mind me roaming your precious ship, I would like to catch a breath of fresh _cold_ air."

Sara has to consciously stop herself from commenting on that terrible wordplay. She steps aside immediately before her mind takes decision she'll have to regret, and gives him the space he wants.

He thanks her dramatically, his eyes piercing again. But this time she holds herself well – doesn't falter or flounder – and lets him breeze past her.

* * *

Sara remembers Gideon's words the next day and when the bridge is empty, she calls out into the void, "You didn't seem sure if Leonard was dreaming last night..." Her voice trails off; she doesn't know what she's quite dealing with here.

Gideon remains silent for a long time but finally tells her, leaving her gasping for breath, "My algorithms can't quite pinpoint it, captain. But it appears someone or something tried to induce the appearance of a dream – or a nightmare, more appropriately – in Mr. Snart's psyche last night."


	4. blood/present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there.
> 
> Amidst the COVID scare, a super cyclone hit my city last Wednesday. My area was fortunate enough not to be affected severely but it's been a tough few days. 2020 really can't get enough.
> 
> Also, this story is slowly turning into a season 5 rewrite. I haven't watched all the episodes that have aired but whatever I have watched, suffice to say I haven't been happy with Sara's treatment. And so here I am.
> 
> Please enjoy!

* * *

Sara keeps that damned piece of information all to herself and makes Gideon run a self-locking program that prevents her from accidentally divulging it to anyone who isn't Leonard.

She considers telling it to him herself – mulls it over and over again – but eventually can't muster the courage to do so. She remembers their last conversation, the stiffness to it, the scorn in his voice as he called her Captain Lance, and— She can't do it, not now anyway. And so she begrudgingly instructs Gideon to break the news to him. He deserves to know and he will, just not from her.

As for anyone else, they don't need to find out, not immediately; there will be time for that later. There's already too much going on in their frenzied ship, which, in itself, is not a rarity but well, the usual madness does not generally come in the form of one of their teammates leaving for good either.

_Damn Ray._

She sinks further into her chair in the captain's parlor with that thought. She hates to admit it, even to herself, even in the solitude and seclusion of her own mind where no one can reach her thoughts, that Ray and his ridiculously stupid optimism had gotten to her on some level. It makes her scoff a little but mostly fills her with an inexplicable feeling of emptiness.

She really will miss him.

It's probably puerile but she feels she will lose yet another part of her old self with Ray. Most of those aboard the Waverider now know very little about the Sara Lance she used to be. Sure, they know the bright bits, the fabled parts but they don't know everything.

They don't know about the Queen's Gambit, they don't know about the Amazo, they don't know about Lian Yu and they don't know about the three arrows that had punctured their way into her body.

They do know about the Lazarus Pit though. That bit has somehow interwoven itself into her existence; there is no going anywhere without being the assassin who came back from the dead.

But they don't know about the after. They don't know about the bloodlust that preyed on her and almost took her over the edge. Well, John does partly but the rest don't—

_Ava does not know. At least not beyond what she must have read in the files._

The realization hits Sara like a truck and sends her reeling. How have they never spoken about this? Almost two years and this has never come up in their conversations. How is that even possible?

Two years. Months of living together—

_Leonard knows._

That realization hits harder – way harder – and completely throws her off balance. Leonard knows everything that Ava doesn't. He knows about the before from all the conversations that had materialized over cards, he knows about the thoughts that had haunted her in what was supposed to be her final moments from a freezing engine room that existed lifetimes ago, and he knows about the bloodlust— Oh, he _knows_ about the bloodlust.

"Boss?"

Sara blinks herself out of the trance that she had somehow worked her way into. Her mind is still a little disoriented – shaken – and she takes a few more moments to actually register what Mick is telling her.

"...I ended up Professor-ing my way through history. I have a daughter."

Sara blinks again— _What?_ She shakes her head slightly, casts out whatever little remained of her latest realizations, and clears all her thoughts to focus solely on the man in front of her. "Come again?"

"A daughter. I have a daughter."

She is aware of her eyes widening. This really is _real_. She still can't help but let out, "How?"

Mick's eyes skitter and Sara swears she sees the slightest of color rising to his cheeks. She can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. She can't picture Mick as a dad but something tells her he wouldn't be so bad at it either. A couple of years ago she would have had her qualms but now she knows a different Mick and—

_She wonders what Leonard thinks of this._

No. Damn, no. She doesn't. She doesn't want to. She needs to put a stop to this constant meandering of thoughts that almost always inevitably leads to Leonard.

She shakes her head again and drags herself back to reality, only to realize Mick has been saying something all this while. "So, can I?" is all she catches.

"Sorry, what?"

Mick narrows his eyes, almost accusingly, and Sara feels like she shrinks under his gaze. Mick asks her gruffly, "Are you okay?"

She dwindles further, suddenly afraid Mick will see through her and read all her treacherous thoughts. Which is stupid, she reckons, because that's hardly a Mick thing to do but she feels so very much on edge ever since she has realized the things Ava doesn't know— and the things Leonard does.

"I'm fine," she manages somehow.

Mick nods, doesn't press further for which she is thankful, and then tells her, "I wanted to know if I can take some time off. You know, get to know the kid."

Sara is proud of the normalcy that she injects into her voice, "Yeah, yeah. Sure. Of course."

Mick quietly departs after that and Sara realizes she feels like she is sinking, slowly but steadily. Ray is leaving and Mick wants a break and the people aboard this ship she could talk to about Leonard and his nightmares – or whatever the fuck they are – just seem to keep plummeting downwards.

She can talk to the others about it but she really doesn't want to. They don't know Leonard, not in a way she does or Mick does. Or even in a way Ray does. Their latest impression of him is waking up under the influence of something and attacking her and Mick. And, Sara really does not want to add to their wariness; Leonard deserves the time and space to process whatever is happening without suspicious eyes on his back all the time.

Maybe she is being selfish. Maybe she is underestimating her team but she can't risk not being careful enough. She can't lose Leonard again, not because she didn't do enough to protect him, not again.

* * *

Sara seeks Ava out because she fears her mind will explode with all the trains of thought that somehow inadvertently find their way to Leonard. She needs a distraction; she hates how that sounds but it is what it is.

Besides, Ava needs to know everything that Leonard does. For Sara's own peace of mind, more than anything else.

She finds Ava in the library, perched on the table with her legs folded, completely immersed in a book which Sara can tell even from a distance houses gory details about some serial killer. A sudden fondness floods her and she finds herself smiling at the sight of her girlfriend, peaceful and at ease in her natural habitat.

"Hey?"

Ava startles, sits up with a jerk, and looks at her with widened eyes. "Oh shit," she breathes heavily, a hand coming to rest on her chest. "I didn't see you coming— Have you heard about the BTK killer?" Ava's voice rises a few notches at that, the excitement palpable.

Sara chuckles, marveling at her enthusiasm. "I haven't. What did he do?"

"What did he _do?_ Babe, the question is what did he _not_ do?" Ava shifts and makes room for Sara beside her on the table, patting the empty space.

Sara takes the invitation gladly and hops onto the tiny spot. "Listen," she begins, her eyes refusing to shift their gaze from her own legs and how they swing restlessly against the table. She can't bring herself to look at Ava for some reason and decides to just get on with it, "I was thinking... There was something I wanted to tell you."

She wonders what Ava picks up in her voice because the book is promptly set aside without much ceremony and she turns around to face her immediately. Sara feels the other woman's eyes on herself and grows exceedingly aware of her surroundings. Her skin tingles and panic and alarm set in, on edge again. _What if Ava sees through her reasons_ —

"Sara?" Ava's voice is gentle and her fingers come around her wrists, the slightest pressure in the touch but somehow— somehow even that feels too much.

She pulls away from the grasp as _normally_ as she can, no intention of triggering other thoughts in Ava's mind. She still can't bring herself to establish eye contact but manages to form the words she is looking for, "So, um... I realized that there were things that we never spoke about—"

"Sara."

There's something about the way Ava says it that forces Sara to look up. It doesn't come naturally but she wills herself to turn around and face the questioning eyes trained on her. She started this, it's only fair that she sees it through.

But then, Ava says, "You don't have to tell me what happened between the two of you."

This time, it comes naturally; so _damn_ naturally as Sara's eyes fly to meet Ava's. "What are you talking about?"

Sara isn't sure if she imagines it but Ava seems to recoil at that. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open and she fumbles with her next words, "I just— Snart... I thought that is what you wanted to talk about."

Sara feels her blood boil, in a way she hasn't felt in years, at the insinuation of those words. _How dare she—_ "Why would you think so?"

Ava looks defeated for a moment but quickly regains her composure, reverts to the woman Sara has always known her to be. There's some steel in her voice, "I saw what it did to you when he came back. You disconnected the comm, Sara. You just... cut me off. Bam!" There's a low chuckle, humorless and dry. "And then, you lost sleep over him and—"

"What are you implying?" Sara doesn't even bother to temper her voice and lets the hostility seep through. She can't believe where this conversation is heading. She can't believe after everything she has done – all the carefully designed plans to keep Leonard away, all the guarded words and all the holding back – this is where they have ended up.

Ava doesn't back down despite the way Sara is glaring at her, "You think I can't see that you have been avoiding Snart ever since he has come back? And you think I don't understand why you're doing that?" A pause, and finally: "You still wear his goddamn pinky ring, for god's sake!"

 _Oh, that—_ Sara realizes what this might look like but it's not a keepsake, it's a reminder that even the best-laid plans can go sideways and... she doesn't think she can explain what the ring means to her, to anyone who isn't Leonard.

Fuck. Her. Life. She is back to square one again— Leonard. Leonard. Leonard. Her mind really can't help but look for sinuous ways back to him. But no, those are thoughts to be warred against and fought in private, not here, not now when she has other battles to fight. "What exactly do you understand, Ava?"

Ava opens her mouth and Sara braces herself for more words; more altercation. But something changes and Ava mellows, eyes softening. "Look, Sara. I'm not looking to fight... and I'm not suggesting what you may think I am. What I'm saying–" Sara truly hates how Ava's words sound diplomatic and measured but that's something you get for dating Time Bureau alums, she reckons. "–is that you're not dealing with this situation... If he is going to stay on this ship, you might as well talk to him."

The words are not exactly said kindly but Sara still finds herself reeling from their meaning. That's hardly something Ava would say— Her mind wanders to the day she returned to the ship after the Crisis, Oliver's death still refusing to sink in and her girlfriend didn't even ask her for once how she was doing. Sara had understood why, had recognized the ugly lines of misplaced jealousy in Ava and... had just let it slide.

She had felt lonely, utterly and truly lonely, but there hadn't been much time to dwell on Ava's behavior and— It wasn't something groundbreaking and it's not like she would have ended a relationship of two years over her partner's inability to handle insecurity.

Relationships are tough and take work, that's what she had always heard. And that's what she had done: put in the work and moved on. It wasn't such a terrible thing, after all.

"Sara."

That reminds her of the silence that spans between them, uncomfortable and throttling. She fills it with the first words that come to mind, finally relenting to the one thought – the one person – that has haunted her for hours and days, "Fine. Whatever."

* * *

Leonard decides he hates the whole coming back from the dead thing as soon as he wakes up screaming and lunging at ghosts that don't exist. He likes his demons real and tangible, he likes them in forms where he can fight them and hurt them— _freeze them to death._

He doesn't remember much from the nightmare, except the overwhelming constant fear of dying. Again. He also remembers it not feeling like a nightmare, not entirely. There was something off about it, something... He can't quite put a finger on it but there was something about it that sounded clear warning bells in his mind.

And that is perhaps when Gideon calls out to him the next morning, he doesn't startle at all. She gives him a bunch of traitorous words strung together that don't help very much either: _the_ _induced_ _appearance of a nightmare in your psyche._

He really hates these phantom monsters.

Then, a thought occurs to him. "Gideon, does anyone else know about this?"

He doesn't receive a reply, which is uncharacteristic and only points towards what he already suspects. He sighs, "Who else have you been gossiping with, Gideon?"

There is a pause. And then: "Only the captain, Mr. Snart."

Leonard can't help but laugh at that statement. " _Only_ the captain? You can do better than that, Gideon."

"If it's any consolation, Captain Lance ran some commands to make sure nobody else finds out about it."

He laughs again because this seems like a horrible joke that the universe is playing on him. He mumbles, barely audible, "Not really a consolation but full credit for the effort."

There's silence after that and Leonard's thoughts start whirring, all noise and no meaning. He starts to wonder why he was brought back from the dead, starts to wonder why Oliver Queen chose him in the aftermath of the Crisis; which he now knows all about, having researched extensively after Raymond mentioned it to him. He starts to wonder what these nightmares mean, starts to wonder why Sara didn't find him as soon as she found out about them; like she used to do once upon a time.

 _Four fucking years_ , how he truly detests it.

It's in moments like these when he wishes he could have experienced time like the others had. At least then, four years would have felt just as long, and maybe, just maybe, all his feelings and emotions wouldn't have been this scrambled; a whole _fucking_ mess.

* * *

By the end of that morning, Leonard decides he has had enough.

All he has done after coming back to the ship is warred with his own thoughts and his own mind, clinging onto a past that is bound to never return. It's time to put this newfound life to good use— And what better than to find out what the current impending mission is, and where and when that is going to take them, and what can be niftily and discreetly stolen from there?

He almost runs into Mick as soon as he steps out of his room. His partner's cheeks are a burning red, almost like he is _blushing_ and— "What the hell happened to you?"

As impossible as it sounds, the color in Mick's cheeks just brightens and he mumbles, "I have a kid, Snart."

 _What in the world—_ "A what?" He isn't sure he has heard it right. It just does not make sense. Not like other things in his life at this point do, but oh well.

Mick scowls. "A kid. A daughter."

Leonard's eyes narrow on their own, a thousand thoughts droning in his head, so loud he can't even hear himself hiss, "How the _hell_ did that happen?"

The scowl deepens. "Bloody time travel. Shouldn't have gone back at all—"

"Or, at least been smart about it!" Leonard tries, he really does, but he can't stop himself from barking those words; hostile and disdainful and so out of control, he is embarrassed. Men like him, men like Mick, they aren't meant for all of this. And he thought Mick understood that.

It's like Mick reads his mind, his eyes coming alive with rage immediately. "Fuck off, Snart."

That makes Leonard seethe. He can't believe _this_ — "You know how it ends with people like us, Mick," he bites out the words, measured and reined in, once again; rage is for fools.

Mick glares at him, doesn't say anything, and Leonard starts to believe he has had the last word when: "You don't know who I am anymore, Snart."

There's finality in those words and Leonard struggles with their meaning, their implication. _Four years_ , he realizes but some things don't change. _Blood does not change._ "Remember when you sold us out to the Time Pirates, Mick? That took you minutes." He has hit a nerve, Leonard can see that from the way his partner's eyes flicker and he really shouldn't go down this murky path but everything hurts so bloody much— "Remember the house you burned down? That's _who_ you—"

Leonard expects it, and honestly kind of finds it freeing: being shoved against the cold metal walls of the Waverider, Mick's hands firmly wrapped around his neck, cutting off his oxygen and—

Mick lets go of him clumsily, horror in his eyes and Leonard can't help the smile that spreads across his lips, jeering and ugly and hateful. He knows his point has been made and he waits – in between coughs and splutters and attempts at breathing – and waits for the loathsome vindictive feeling of victory to wash over him.

But it never comes and he is left alone in the halls of a ship that is slowly starting to feel like a torture chamber, Mick's departing look full of scorn and hatred, the only thing that keeps him company.


	5. fathers/memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took some (read: a lot of) time, hehe. My apologies!
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 5!

* * *

If he were to be completely honest with himself, the _run-in_ with Mick in the halls of the Waverider had left Leonard feeling completely and utterly pathetic.

At the very least, it was not a feeling he was completely unfamiliar with.

It had constantly woven in and out of his life, sometimes fleeting, a ghost of a sensation that reared its head after he did something _stupid_ like helping Barry Allen back at home or joining the Legends back in time.

But those times were different. The hopelessness of it all, of doing something right in a life that had mostly known wrongs, would soon disappear; buried under words like _hero_ and _honor_ flung at him carelessly.

No, those times were alright. He hated them, but they were _alright._

The times when the feeling would linger for a little too long, sticking to his skin like it would never leave, were the ones that weren't.

(The nights from all those years ago. Veins coursing with disgust. Wanting to crawl out of his own skin. The realization of what his time at juvie had done to his sister. _W_ _hat Lewis had done to her._ )

As much as he hates it, _t_ _his_ , he realizes, is more of the lingering kind. Mick may be a lot of things that are wrong, but he himself isn't too different.

_Two sides of the same coin._

And he doesn't agree with how his partner – _ex-partner –_ has changed history; he never will, he never can. But if everyone else aboard the ship isn't unnerved by it, terrified by its repercussions then maybe, he doesn't have to be either.

_Four years._

There are too many lessons to be learned, too many to be unlearned, and some to be relearned.

It sounds exhausting (and _terrifying_ ), even when the words are whirling in his head; no solid ground beneath them.

And he decides, now is not the time for him to go back to doing something stupid, like giving shape to the floating words and giving them some semblance of tangibility.

That'll happen later. (Or not.)

For now, there's the cargo bay.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be packing for your honeymoon?" Leonard can't help but remark at the sound of heavy footsteps, and the appearance of a silhouette, in the periphery of his vision.

"Well, we aren't married yet," Ray sounds perky, annoyingly so, as always. "I mean, we _are_ engaged. But not married."

"Absolutely _thrilled_ for you."

"Well, thank you." Leonard rolls his eyes, almost instinctively at that, and prays for the solitude he knows he won't be getting. Ray continues, either blissfully unaware or blissfully disregardful of his wishes, "There was something I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

 _Right, of course._ Leonard straightens himself, back rigid against one of the many boxes strewn across the room, and crosses his arms across his chest.

Ray reads the silence as acquiescence, and says, "I have been doing some research ever since the encores started to show up. Running probabilistic tests and the sort, you know." Leonard shrugs, refrains from commenting but he has a fair idea of where this is going. "So, the thing is... if I had to guess who the next encores are going to be, I'd probably get them right."

It's exactly what Leonard was suspecting but... why is he the one who is being told all of this? There are surely other people on the Waverider, people who haven't been hiding in their rooms and have been involved with the actual missions, who should be the ones hearing this.

But then: "Well, the problem is... one of them could be Nora's father." A beat, then guilt in his voice, "I'm leaving so that she doesn't have to face him. But... I never told her that and now, I realize it was wrong. And I don't know what to do."

He doesn't react, not straight away despite the droning in his ear— _How dare he?_ Instead, he asks coolly, recollecting the name he had gleaned during his catching up with the past that somehow doesn't exist for him, "Damien Darhk?"

"Yeah." Ray shakes his head. "I'm sorry, you probably need more context—"

"I don't," Leonard cuts him off sharply, and decides he might as well give Raymond Palmer, self-proclaimed Boy Scout, a piece of his mind, "Why are you telling me all this? Do you want some stamp of approval for what you've done?"

Ray startles, draws his head back. "No— That's not... I thought you'd be able to help me out."

"With what, exactly?" It comes out as a little too incisive. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Raymond, because the history that's written tends to differ from the truth, but isn't Damien Darhk the reason why your girlfriend was controlled by a demon?"

Ray grimaces. "Ye—"

"Then _why_ are you taking away her choice?" Ray recoils at his tone, and Leonard pins him in place with a steely glare. "Don't you think she deserves to decide how she wants to deal with her father?"

(Memories try to rush back to him. But he knows how to shut them out. _Freeze all his demons._ )

"I..." Ray looks around helplessly, floundering and grasping for words. "All I wanted was to make things better but..."

" _Shocked._ "

"...but I think you're right."

 _Oh._ He doesn't see that coming, feels the slightest crack spreading across his _icy_ demeanor but reins it all in just in time.

Ray gives him a departing glance, one which he barely returns, and curses and slumps further only after he is left alone.

* * *

It's that stray comment that ultimately sends Leonard to Mick's door. He hates it, absolutely detests it, but... he wants to be _right_.

He knocks. Waits and waits for seconds which feel too long, before the door slides open. Mick is behind a typewriter, something that Leonard still finds hard to wrap his mind around. He barely looks up, adjusts his glasses, and goes back to typing, the keys clashing loudly.

"Mick," he eventually bites out.

"Is this going to be a heart-to-heart?"

(A memory slips through this time: _"We don't have hearts._ ")

He almost says so but catches himself in time. He doesn't think Mick remembers it with as much clarity as he does; remembers the words that had twisted themselves in the space between them.

He wishes it could be the same for him, but he _knows_ if he tried, just a little, he would be able to trace a path through where his skin had purpled.

_Unlearn. Relearn._

And so he says, drawl seeping in momentarily, "I wanted to apologize. For what I said." Pauses, reads the room. Mick's still at the typewriter but he needs to get this out, "Things have changed. Around here. And... I may or may not have been a little obtuse about it."

Mick snickers, and this is where the conversation should end but: "You know what's funny, Snart?" And he looks up, finally, eyes burning through him. "That I had your back when you came back from the dead. That I had your back when you were attacking the rest of us in your _fucking_ sleep."

Leonard freezes, the world spinning around him, lines blurring into empty space. " _What?_ "

"You don't _know_?" The typewriter stands still now, and he vaguely registers Mick standing up, taking a step closer to him. He recoils, backtracks till cold metal walls greet him. "What do you think the chains were for?"

His voice trembles, _"No_."

Mick looks victorious, vindictive almost, and the all familiar sickly feeling crawls its way back onto Leonard's skin. This is going to linger, he knows, and he takes as many steps as he can, away from Mick and his piercing eyes that refuse to leave him.

Impossibly, the other man still gets the final word: "It's because you _attacked_ me. And Sara."

And—

Leonard lurches back to his own room, skin prickly and sinful under all his layers of clothing. _Blood does not change_ , and he locks himself up and wishes he could scrub it all off, peel it all off, or just _fucking_ run away.

* * *

Sara stares at the ceiling listlessly as she lies awake in bed, painfully aware of the distance that exists between her and Ava. They have been through worse, haven't seen each other in days, and have still managed to find a way back from it all. And yet, this time feels more final than any of those fights ever did.

She knows why, just doesn't know if she wants to confront that truth right now.

Ava stirs beside her. "I'm going to switch off my light if that's alright."

Sara tries not to read too much into the crisp tone and nods in response. And then, almost on a whim, she turns around to face her girlfriend, gives her the best smile she can pull, and then: "I was thinking... what if we planned a date night like old times? We could have Gideon drop us off—"

"Sara, please don't."

She stops talking instantly, feels stupid and embarrassed, and feels yet another nail being hammered into her realization of how final all of this is.

Ava probably notices how she looks, and says, voice hardly different, "It's not... There's just a lot going on right now, okay? We have the encore problem, and John's decided to help Astra and— We have to be here."

Sara nods again, hears the unsaid words about a man frozen in ice who has come back from the dead. And who she refuses to engage in a conversation with.

It's been a day since their conversation in the library, and for some reason, Sara just cannot muster the courage to talk to Leonard. She doesn't even know what they should be talking about; she had bared her soul to him all those years ago, and then the world had taken him away from her.

She wonders if Ava would have wanted her to talk to him if she knew about everything the two of them had been through.

She probably wouldn't, and for a moment Sara wonders if that would be a good thing. At least that way, she would have been able to avoid Leonard like she had been doing – _out of sight, out of mind_ – and wouldn't have to confront what his return actually meant to her—

And then, the light goes off and she forces herself to stop thinking.

* * *

Sara wakes up in an empty bed the next morning and has a horrible gut feeling that she isn't going to particularly like this day.

By the time she ventures out of her room, she is convinced she was right. Mick is pacing outside her room, a flask in his hand, and looking like he hasn't gotten any sleep.

The acknowledgment is stiff, "Boss."

"What's happening? Is everything alright?" She asks despite knowing it probably isn't.

"Yes, absolutely." Sara doesn't even register her eyebrows arching in disbelief. "I just wanted to tell you I'm not leaving. Not taking the days off for... you know."

"But..." _This does not make sense_ , and she almost lets that slip. "Did something happen, Mick?"

"No. No." He takes a swig off the flask. "I realized a few things, that's all."

None of this makes sense, and Sara struggles to connect the Mick that had eagerly wanted a few days off to the one who is here right now. And so she presses, "What things?"

There's a pause, and a grunt. "Nothing important."

He turns on his heels, but Sara is quick to react, an arm keeping him from walking away. "Mick." And then, a thought strikes her. "Did someone say something?"

He stills, and everything coalesces into perfect clarity. "It's nothing." She hears Mick over the voice inside her head that has already started to piece together everything.

"It was Leonard, wasn't it?"

The lack of a reply is all she needs for an answer. She wants to be mad; she _should_ be mad. But she knows Leonard too well, a little too well for her own liking, and she hates it but she _gets_ it. He hasn't had these four years, he hasn't seen Mick save their backs over the majority of these years, and all he knows and remembers is betrayal from the man in front of her.

_This is why resurrection is a bad idea._

"Look, this is between Snart and me." Sara blinks out of her trance and watches Mick leave. And then slowly makes her way into the dining room; who knows maybe breakfast will solve this shit?

* * *

Thankfully, she finds the bridge empty after that, and she sinks into her chair. She wonders for a brief moment where Ava is, and contemplates asking Gideon but eventually decides against it. If last night was any indication, there's no point in seeking out Ava now.

At least not till she has spoken to Leonard.

Which, well— It's been a long time coming and hearing what he's said to Mick, she suddenly feels like she _should_ talk to him. Just to hear his side, to hear what he has to say, to _listen_ to him.

She owes him that much, owes both herself and him that much.

"Captain, there's something I think you should look into."

"No good morning, Gideon?" Sara mumbles. And then, at the silence that greets her: "What is it?"

"It's... complicated," Gideon sounds less assured than usual if that's even possible. "Allow me."

A host of graphs and charts appear mid-air, right above the central console. Sara squints at all the information, tries to figure out what all of this is about.

Gideon doesn't leave her hanging in confusion for too long. "It took me a while but I could recover some data from the earth that used to be. I have a rough estimate of what the population was before the Crisis."

Sara blinks in confusion till her father's face pops up, along with Leonard's, and she has a vague inkling of where this is going.

"I compared that data to that of the current population, captain," Gideon continues. "And while there is an influx because of the people from the other earths, I noticed something peculiar. Of all the people from our earth who have come back, there's no one quite like Mr. Snart."

"As in?"

"Everybody else returned like they never left at all, your father included." _Oh._ Now, Sara knows what this is about, and she feels herself reeling, as Gideon's next words wash over her, _"_ It's only Mr. Snart who returned frozen in ice, having vividly experienced his original death. Memories completely intact."

Sara registers herself cussing, and then: "Is there a reason for this, Gideon?"

"Nothing that I have been able to figure out, captain."

There's a pause, and Sara tries to breathe because somehow that seems like something she has forgotten. The heel of her hands finds her eyes, rubbing against them wearily. This day has only just begun—

"Maybe if we spoke to Mr. Snart..." Gideon breaks the silence, tone impossibly implicative.

_Since when are artificial intelligences insinuating?_

Sara gives in, feels herself walking right into whatever Gideon has set up for her. "You think that'll help?"

"Perhaps. Without his willingness, I can only read his dreams. And his _nightmares_."

Sara glances upwards on instinct, the screams from the other night ringing in her ears, and her heart thrumming ridiculously. "Again?"

"Yes. There were... triggers."

"Let me guess, Mick?" It bubbles out of her bitterly.

Gideon is silent for a second, and Sara starts to wonder if she has got this wrong. And then: "Yes, and no."

"Gideon!"

"I don't think you realize..."

Sara _knows_ , right down to her bones, she is going to hate wherever this goes. " _What?_ "

"...Mr. Snart was not cognitive when he woke up here for the first time, and then attacked you and Mr. Rory. And—"

_She had never told him._

Sara feels the world collapse around her, bit by bit and then entirely, all at once. How had it come to this? She had been there, with him, with Mick, when all of that had happened. And then, she had been there again, when he had actually woken up, _in chains_.

How had she not mentioned it to him?

_What the hell is wrong with her?_

"Does he know now?" she rasps, voice smaller, fully aware of the answer that is bound to follow.

"Yes, captain. Mr. Rory mentioned it in conversation last night."

She has never felt things spinning so out of control. There's the Ava of it all, then there's this. She wants to scoff because avoiding Leonard had only resulted in more problems than solutions.

She thinks there could be a lesson in that somewhere.

She _hates_ it.

"Captain, at the risk of overstepping my boundaries. You have to talk to Mr. Snart because—"

"Because." There's the sound of movement, and he looms into view. "He is here."

There's this tiny part of her that wants to laugh, the part of her that still _thinks_ he is hers, and she is his, the part of her that still thinks about the me-and-you.

Because _this_ is so dramatic, and so over the top, and just so _Leonard._

But there's the sensible part, the one that knows everything is different, and can never be the same. The one that has horror in her eyes, and breathes rapidly, and readies apologies that will probably mean nothing—

"Captain Lance, a private audience with you, please?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted them to talk so much, but Plot (TM) got in between. Ugh!
> 
> Also, Ray leaving because _Damien Darhk_ asked him to, didn't sit well with me. And hence, voila!


	6. forgotten/remembered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> This took some time, didn't it? Please don't hate me, haha. College has reopened with entirely online classes, and somehow that is a lot more draining than actually attending classes physically. Weird, huh? This year has truly been a ride.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, and all the kudos, and all the comments. My heart does a crazy jig every time I receive a mail from AO3 telling me about kudos and comments, no kidding!
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 6!

* * *

"Captain Lance, a private audience with you, please?"

By the look on Sara's face, Leonard can tell she somehow knows where this is going. And he's glad – so _fucking_ glad – because he has had enough of this bullshit of coming back from the dead, and really can do with some transparency.

"Leonard..."

She sounds smaller than he has ever heard her, eyes flickering with something he'd rather not think about— he shuts it out.

He has spent an entire night ironing out this conversation in his head, has chosen words carefully and meticulously, and isn't going to let it all derail itself and fall apart.

So, he tells her instead, "I won't take much of your time."

Sara doesn't move a muscle, eyes trained on him, the flickering not really ceasing. He ignores it _—_ curls and uncurls his fingers by his side, realizes he is too tired to wrap his words in the drawl that has never failed to protect him.

_He shuts it out._

"I spent some time thinking—about everything," he seeks out her gaze because he feels like he must, subconsciously notes the tick in her jaw, and just lets it out, "and... I think I'd like to leave."

It's unsettling, how everything seems to change at that; the air somehow heavier, silence and only silence all around. Throttling, with hands that wrap around his throat and threatens to knock him breathless.

_This was supposed to feel better than this._

Sara works through the haze first, takes a step forward, eyes widened, eyes disbelieving, eyes incredulous. Her voice cracks, "...leave?"

He regards the situation – _her –_ for a second: "The ship, yes."

The effect of his words play out across her features, and not for the first time, he wishes he could have forgotten all that he had learned before; wishes he could have forgotten how to read her without so much as a breath of effort.

He looks away, instead worries his mind – and fingers – with the way his knuckles whiten when he clutches onto the edge of a chair.

"Look." She stands a little taller now, her voice a little steadier: "I— can we please talk about this?"

There's desperation in her voice, and he begins to think it doesn't sound right. Not at all, when: "I... I know things don't look— I fucked up, alright?"

He hears her move, take a step closer, and when he looks up, all he can think about is the last time they were alone here, his gun trained on her.

_Such simpler times._

He doesn't know what to say and lets her close in on the distance. There's panic in her tone: "I have been terrible. I should have— I shouldn't have done a lot of things the way I did them. And, I... it's just that I didn't know what to do, and I _know_ that is no excuse—"

She cuts herself off, sucks in a sharp breath. She is watching him carefully, intently, barely at an arm's length away from him. It's not close, but it's not far either, and he wonders why it still seems so natural – _freeing_ – to allow her into his personal bubble.

"I should have told you." Her voice is barely a whisper, the cracks in it a lot more apparent now.

His heart clenches. He resists looking away, stops himself from running and hiding, and holds her gaze; steady. He finds his fingers slipping from their ironclad grip of the chair.

_Maybe they will work this out._

"I should have told you a long time ago, and... there was so much going on— and as I said, I know it's no excuse, but it... I never realized that I didn't tell you."

_Oh._

He physically recoils, puts in as much distance as he can between the two of them. He barely registers Sara's face fall, her words whirring in his head; loud, far too loud.

"You... _forgot_?"

Sara starts, stutters on whatever she wants to say; it's mostly a blur for him.

An entire sleepless night of warding off his demons, trying to make sense of it all, and frantically thinking why she would have kept _this_ – violence on his end, violence against his _own_ people, violence that he knows too well, violence he had sworn to never inflict – away from him.

He had tried to understand her reasons, behind all of it. Keeping Oliver Queen's death away from him. Having Gideon tell him about his nightmares— or whatever they were.

And now, _this._

He feels sick.

"I just... I'm really sor—" He hears her say, and that does it. That really _fucking_ does it.

"Don't." He can't shut it out anymore; can't, he really can't. " _Pawns_ , Sara. Are we all just pawns?"

She goes still. He doesn't particularly care— he can't even look at her.

"It's not—" Sara flounders, voice heavy. One last desperate attempt: "Leonard, that's not it. _Please."_

"We're done here," he manages with whatever little strength he still has left.

They are back to where they had been teetering for days on end— no, they have regressed even further. Backward, and only backward, and he starts to think that there really is no coming back from this.

He doesn't know if he wants to either.

"2016. Can you drop me off at Central City?"

Leonard doesn't bother looking at her properly, ignores the way her voice shakes: "Like you never left at all?"

_If only._

"Yes."

There's a pause, a heavy one, and then: "Okay."

* * *

Leonard barely makes it to his room, the door sliding shut noiselessly behind him, when: "Very mildly put, you are being stupid."

He splutters, glares useless daggers at the ceiling, snaps, "I don't remember asking for your opinion, Gideon."

"No one ever does." There's silence for a tiny second, and Leonard uses it to slide his back down the wall, a knee pulled to his chest. Gideon has more words apparently: "But here's the issue, Mr. Snart. No one asks for my opinion till they realize an artificial consciousness is infinitely more adept than human minds ever can be. So, I'm going to take the liberty of going ahead with this, and reiterating that you are being stupid."

Leonard tries not to bristle, "What do you want?"

"You shouldn't be leaving this ship till we can diagnose the cause behind your nightmares."

It's almost unintentional, the caustic laugh that rolls off his lips. " _We?"_

"Yes," she deadpans. "You, me, and Captain Lance."

Leonard snorts. "For an all-knowing artificial consciousness, aren't you being a little dense now, Gideon?"

There's a pause, and he starts to believe he has won this round—

A distinct shiver runs down his spine; the air suddenly too cold. Freezing.

" _Gideon_."

"Yes, Mr. Snart?" Her voice is saccharine.

His blood boils, but his teeth chatter, palms rubbing against each other desperately. "This" —he manages to grit out, pulling his parka closer around himself— "is madness."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"What do you _want?_ "

The temperature spikes almost at once. Leonard resists the urge to roll his eyes, and keeps his vision fixated on the ceiling awaiting a perfectly predictable reply.

But: "Let us help."

It catches him off-guard; steals all the words from the tip of his tongue.

Gideon treats the silence as a cue to continue, and he can't decide what bothers him more: the sinking feeling that refuses to let go of him or what she tells him next, "It's something I learned from you, Mr. Snart. Never leave your own behind."

 _His own._ The irony isn't lost on him.

"Don't."

But she does, because of course, she does. "Captain Lance should have told you about what happened when you weren't fully conscious—"

"She should have _remembered._ "

"—and she was wrong. You don't have to believe me when I say this but she did not mean to—"

"Look, if you're trying to defend her, I don't particularly _care_." He ignores the way the words taste in his mouth; bitter and almost a lie. "What's done is done, and I'm not going to lock myself up in this ship because of a nightmare or two."

Oh, he has said too much. The realization festers underneath his skin, and he wants to take it all back—

"Very well, Mr. Snart."

He blinks; suddenly uncomfortable in this easy acquiescence. Isn't this what he wanted?

He finds himself leaning further against the wall, pulling up another knee to his chest, and slowly sinking his head into the space between them.

If he closes his eyes, he knows what he will find.

There will be Mick with his hand around his neck, his back slammed against the walls of the ship; nowhere to run or hide. There will be Mick towering above him, voice dipped in poison, dredging up memories he doesn't have, setting off a chant in his head that will ring persistently and continuously; no sign of stopping.

"... _you attacked me. And Sara."_

If he closes his eyes, he'll find easier ways to hate himself than he has ever found before.

And so, he keeps his eyes peeled, focuses on the grey floor that his gaze finds through the tight knitting of his fingers, and consciously keeps every other memory at bay.

"Can I tell you one last thing, Mr. Snart?"

He tunes his attention to Gideon's voice; lets out a shaky affirmation.

"About Oliver Queen... what you told the captain about her not mentioning it to you." He wills himself to look up, something important about how she sounds. "She hasn't really spoken about it with anyone." Pauses. "She hasn't really had a lot of people willing to listen to her."

_Oh._

He tries not to care, he really shouldn't, but he doesn't have these four years in between, and it's getting harder and harder to pretend that he does.

He hates how resigned he sounds: "What are you trying to tell me?"

"I think you know."

Leonard sucks in a breath, closes his eyes, and watches the pandemonium unfold.

 _He is of no use here_ _, he can't be of any use here—_ and so, he steels his heart, and fights every treacherous thought, and: "I'm still leaving, Gideon."

* * *

Sara stares and stares and _stares_ at the space Leonard leaves behind; the emptiness that threatens to swallow her alive.

She does it for far too long, traces out the path he has taken, and makes herself believe that if she keeps herself busy with this – with _anything_ – she won't have to worry about being pulled under by all the thoughts swimming in her head.

It's a lie. Of course, it is.

She collapses haphazardly soon after, the world spinning around her, and dissolving into shades of black and grey and nothingness.

 _Pawns_.

The word stings, but— but that's not it. It's about the way he said those words, the way he looked at her as he flung them at her. She doesn't think he has ever looked at her that way before, not when she was pulled to his door by his screams, not when he pulled a gun on her, not... not ever. It hurts; more than it should, more than it has any right to.

_It hurts more than it does to sleep in a bed that feels increasingly empty with every passing day._

The thought feels like a slap to her face; unbidden and absolutely uncalled for. There's guilt for a second, one tiny fleeting second before it disappears without any inkling.

It should linger, should tear her apart from the inside, should make her want to shirk every thought that leads her to this realization, and yet—

And _yet_.

* * *

What lingers though is the stabbing pain of knowing she has messed up, knowing she has let down someone on her team, someone who is important.

It persists throughout the day; throughout the team meeting she calls to discuss where they stand with the Encore problem.

Mick doesn't say anything, hangs back in the shadows, and she itches to ask him about what happened last night. But she knows she won't get answers; their conversation outside her room had made that pretty clear.

Besides she doesn't think she can do anything with that information anymore.

The words – the look in his eyes – from before try to push through to the surface. She sends them where they can't reach her, and instead distracts herself with the way John looks at Zari.

It works.

Ava doesn't meet her eyes, even while she draws up a list of the Encores they have already encountered. Rasputin, Bugsy Siegel, Kathy Meyers, Marie Antoinette, Genghis Khan— _Five._ There have already been five of them, and while she has always known time to be a funny thing, she realizes she hasn't really processed the days after the Crisis beyond the walls of the ship.

_Beyond Leonard, and Ava, and keeping herself away from this and that, and everything and nothing._

"Who do you think will turn up next?" Nate asks.

It's a question that is directed at everyone, and she wonders if she imagines the way Ray seems to tense at it, shoulders suddenly drawn rigid, eyes momentarily widened. She opens her mouth—

"We should run a betting pool," Behrad beats her to it.

She can't help the laugh that bubbles out of her. It's nice, takes away some of the sting, even if it is for just a tiny moment. She lets go of the doubts she has regarding Ray and thinks it probably has to do with him leaving in a few days.

_Last few missions with him._

She dispels that thought, doesn't allow herself to ponder on all the goodbyes she'll be bidding. Because if she does, she'll once again find her way back to Leonard, and the fact that he is leaving because she was careless and irresponsible—

The fact that he didn't even let her apologize to him.

_No._

"I think you might be onto something," Nate is very appreciative of Behrad's idea, and Sara finds it easy to lose herself in their babble.

There's something about the moment, something that makes her draw her gaze to find Ava's. She doesn't know what she is looking for, _why_ she is even looking for it. But old habits die hard, and she is still trying to work through this mess of emotions within herself; the tangled webs that don't make sense at all.

This time, Ava does meet her eyes. There is nothing for a second, only a beat of hesitation and a reminder of the distance that has been eating away at them. And then, Ava throws her a half-formed smile that barely reaches her eyes.

Some of the webs untangle within her, and as she returns the gesture, she starts to realize; an epiphany starts to paint itself alive.

"Hey, where's Leonard?" Ray's voice cuts through her thoughts.

She hesitates, feels all the eyes in the room burn into her. It must be in her head, she tells herself.

Ray continues, one of his usual smiles on his face: "We could do with a seasoned Legend's help, after all."

Sara looks around the room, vaguely hears Nate and Behrad say something about "OG Legends", catches Zari and John glancing at each other not quite surreptitiously, notes Mick squirm at Ray's words— and watches as Ava's face drains of all color.

The epiphany continues to fill itself with hues and shades she hasn't seen in a while.

She works past the revelations drumming loudly within her, and manages, "I don't... he probably isn't going to be here for very long."

"Oh." She barely hears Ray, barely notices Mick's glare, focuses only on the way Ava's expression clears.

The epiphany completes itself; leaves her with a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. She feels sick, recognizes the ugly lines of misplaced jealousy she isn't seeing for the first time, and remembers all the times she has let it all go.

She understands, and she realizes. Finally, after all this time. It's so simple, she wonders why it took her this long:

She has gone far too long without being honest to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, full disclosure. I stared at this for one whole day after having it all written because I felt super conscious about writing Len and Sara properly here. I hope you guys liked it though!
> 
> Also, I imagine Len hurting someone he is close to physically would bring back a lot of bad memories and feelings because of Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, and hence, why he behaves the way he does. Like I said, I did kind of struggle with this chapter and ended up wondering whether I was making that part clear.
> 
> If you reached this far, thank you for reading, and hearing me vent about my writing! xD

**Author's Note:**

> I have very recently started to actively use my Tumblr. So if that's your thing, you can find me on [@the--descension](https://the--descension.tumblr.com) (exclusive fandom screaming blog), or [@the-descension-inks](https://the-descension-inks.tumblr.com) (kind of a writing blog)!


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